


Dancing Through the Stars

by IrisPerea2004



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies), Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Next Generation, Star Trek: The Original Series, Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: AU friendly, Alternate Universe, Angst, Drabble, Drabble Collection, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Heavy Angst, I write poly!relationships, Imagines, It's gonna take a while to get all the tags up, LITERALLY, Light Angst, M/M, Multi, Ok I lied, One Shot Collection, Other, Polyamory, reader/everyone - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-22
Updated: 2020-05-22
Packaged: 2021-02-16 06:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 29
Words: 10,084
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21503119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IrisPerea2004/pseuds/IrisPerea2004
Summary: A collection of oneshots, imagines, you-frikking-name-it! Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE from TOS through Enterprise will be written for. :) (I unfortunately cannot write for Discovery or Picard because I haven't seen any episodes)REQUESTS ARE (selectively, I'm working on motivation) OPEN, Y'ALL!**When I said everyone, I meant EVERYONE, every recurring character and even a couple oneshot characters! :D
Relationships: Benjamin Sisko/Reader, Chakotay/Reader, Data (Star Trek)/Reader, Elim Garak/Reader, Elim Garak/Reader/Julian Bashir, Geordi La Forge/Reader, Harry Kim/Reader, Jadzia Dax/Reader, Jean-Luc Picard/reader, Julian Bashir/Reader, Kathryn Janeway/Reader, Kevin Riley/Reader, Leonard McCoy/Reader, Malcolm Reed/Reader, Odo (Star Trek)/Reader, Odo (Star Trek)/You, Phlox (Star Trek)/Reader, Reader/Everyone, Spock/Reader, The Doctor (Star Trek)/Reader, Tom Paris/Reader, Travis Mayweather/Reader
Comments: 127
Kudos: 166





	1. Nightmares (Kevin Riley)

The lights were out in the quarters that Riley shared with (Y/N). He assumed that she had gone to bed, and he wouldn't have blamed her. The chronometer on the wall read 0100 hours.

 _Late shifts,_ he thought tiredly. _I hate late shifts._

He didn't bother to turn on any of the lights. He did know his way around his own quarters after all. He gladly stripped off his uniform, and changed into the far more comfortable sleepwear that (Y/N) had set out for him. The uniform was unceremoniously stuffed into the basket destined for the Laundry and Recycling, or Lose and Ruin, as it was nicknamed by almost everyone on the ship.

The sheets where pleasantly warmed by (Y/N)'s body heat, and Riley finally relaxed, letting all of the tension and irritability seep out of him. He turned over, and pressed a goodnight kiss to her forehead.

He was woken in the middle of the night by someone stealing all his blankets. Still half asleep, he turned over to tug them back over himself. In the darkness, he groped for the edge of the covers, and froze when a very familiar voice spoke.

"Don't," (Y/N) muttered. "No...please, don't!"

Riley shook away the sleep from his mind. "(Y/N)? he said gently. "I'm right here."

She didn't speak. He gently shook her shoulder, trying to wake her from whatever nightmare she was experiencing.

"Please," (Y/N) whimpered. "...hurts." Her voice rose into a shrill whine and then broke. 

"Hey," Riley said. "Hey, it's okay. (Y/N), I'm right here. It's okay."

She struggled against him, still floundering through her half-dream, half memory. 

"(Y/N)," he said, letting go of her shoulders. "(Y/N), I'm here. You're okay."

Her eyes snapped open, but the room was so dark it didn't do her very much good.

"Kevin?" she said, trying to strain her eyes into the darkness. To her surprise and shame, she was crying.

"It's alright," he said reassuringly, pressing a kiss to her temple. "I'm right here."

"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I woke you up, didn't I?"

"Nah," he lied, his lilting accent music in her ears. His arms were tight around her, grounding her, and driving away the last remnants of the nightmare. She dried her tears on her sleeve. 

They were silent, simply enjoying their feeling of security together. (Y/N) snuggled closer, revelling in the simple feeling of finally having someone who reach through, and pull her out of the sea of nightmares that resulted from her time on Deneva.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A request for @MidnightSunflowers! :) I hope you enjoyed it.


	2. Proposal (Kevin Riley)

(Y/N) hummed under her breath, her eyes slightly unfocused as she stared at the controls. Her mind was clearly elsewhere.

As a matter of fact, she was thinking back to that very morning, when she had been all but forced into Sick Bay by a very worried Kevin Riley. She had been feeling mildly ill for a few days, nothing particularly serious, but Riley being Riley, he had taken her to see Doctor McCoy, just to make sure.

_"You're perfectly well," McCoy had told her, his bright blue eyes kind. He handed her a PADD with her health summary._

_"Then why do I feel like you're 'bout to tell me I'm dying?" she joked weakly, accepting the PADD._

_His mouth twitched slightly. "Well, you aren't dying," he said. "In fact, I'd say congratulations are in order."_

_He had left her alone to read her report, a growing sense of mingled excitement, fear and joy building in her chest._

That evening, in the quarters that they shared, Riley was unusually quiet. (Y/N) almost, didn't notice, preoccupied as she was with how to break the news to him. They got ready for bed, and climbed under the covers without speaking a word to each other. 

(Y/N) turned over to face Riley, opening her mouth to say goodnight. Instead, what came out was: "Are you alright? You're very quiet."

"I'm fine," Riley said. "Just thinking."

"Ah."

They were quiet for a moment Then, tentatively, she asked: "Did-Did I do anything wrong?"

"No," he said quickly. "Not at all." He turned over, and gathered her in his arms. "I love you," he said fondly.

The Mess Hall was full of people that morning. It almost seemed like the entire Bridge was there, plus most of Engineering. 

"Watch-! Oh, sorry Chris."

Christine shook her head. "Not your fault. It's very crowded in here today."

Now it was (Y/N)'s turn to be bumped into. Captain Kirk himself very nearly dropped his tray all over her.

"I'm terribly sorry, lieutenant," he said apologetically. "This is definitely a bit louder than I had planned."

"Planned?"

Kirk didn't seem to hear her. The impassive Vulcan at his side opened his mouth to reply, but Kirk stepped on his foot. "I believe that someone would actually like to speak with you, (Y/N)."

She turned around to see Riley, a very silly expression on his face.

"He's right," the Irishman said, also rather apologetically. "The.. um...audience turned out bigger than I thought."

"What? What's going..." she trailed off as Riley went to take her hand, and even dropped to a knee.

:This sin't going to be very fancy," he warned. "But I would like to say that I-I-I love you, and I would...I can think of-of...I can think of no one else I would prefer to-to share my life with...I--I...Will you marry me?"

(Y/N) blinked. 

"Kevin Riley, of course I will marry you!" she said. She had intended it to be somewhat louder and definitely kess blushy, but she managed to say it. She roughly pulled him in for a hug, and kissed her chastely on the mouth. 

Everyone (but Spock) cheered, and a couple even wolf-whistled, Chekov among them. (Riley was going to get him for that.)

"I have something to tell you," (Y/N) confided, her arms still wrapped around Riley.

"What?" he asked happily.

(Y/N) took a deep breath. "I'm having a baby," she announced.

Riley looked like he had been transported to the seventh heaven. This was almost too much for him.

"You what?" he squeaked. Kirk chuckled.

(Y/N) kissed him firmly.

"Pregnant. Expecting. We're having a baby."

For a moment she was worried he was going to pass out, but the wild cheering seemed to ground him a little.

"I love you, (Y/N)," he managed.

"I love you too, dork," she said fondly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't get all of your prompt done, dear @MidnightSunflowers, but tht's because the whole Kathleen thing is currently being written as another, connected, drabble. :D I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
> 
> (P.S. I would be in your debt if you point out any errors for me. I kind of wrote this at midnight, and couldn't see my keyboard too well, XP)


	3. Kathleen (Kevin Riley)

(Y/N) was curled on the bed, gazing vaguely at the datapadd, a pleasant smile on her face. Riley cuddled her from behind, his arms wrapped around her rounded belly.

"You're growing," he said, pressing a butterfly-light kiss to her back. "Pretty soon there won't be room in the bed for all three of us."

(Y/N) laughed softly. "That's not _my_ fault," she cheerfully protested, patting his hand. "Blame your daughter."

"Mmm..."

They were quiet for a moment, revelling in the luxurious feeling of the tiny family that they were beginning together. Then suddenly, Riley gasped and he looked at (Y/N)'s pregnant belly with renewed wonder.

"I...I think I felt her move!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide.

"I think you did," (Y/N) said warmly. "I did, at any rate."

Riley laughed, his eyes still wide with wonder. He snuggled closer, and started humming his abysmally off-key version of 'I'll Take You Home, Kathleen."

(Y/N) smacked his hand playfully. "Cut it out," she laughed. "You're setting a terrible example."

"What, me? Singing?" he carolled, grinning. 

(Y/N) rolled her eyes theatrically, eliciting a merry laugh from Riley. 

Riley rolled over onto his stomach, a position that (Y/N) could no longer manage. "We could name her Kathleen," he teased. 

"Kevin!" (Y/N) said playfully, pretending to be annoyed. 

They laughed together, their unbridled merriment filling the small quarters. 

"I _do_ love you, (Y/N)," Riley said warmly, curling comfortably at her side.

"I love you too, Kevin," (Y/N) said, wrapping her free arm around him.


	4. The First Meeting (Data)

(Y/N) briefly looked up from her PADD as the doors to Ten Forward hissed open, and then looked back down again.

Guinan smiled slightly. "You know, this bar is tecnically considered a place to socialize," she said, in her deep, melodic voice. "If you don't want to talk to people, you should try the holodecks."

(Y/N) looked up from her PADD again, meeting the other woman's dark, enigmatic eyes. "Oh, no," she said quickly. "It's not that. I just... I didn't come here for the purpose of meeting people."

"Then why did you come here?" Guinan asked curiously, leaning on the bar.

"For a drink, mostly," (Y/N) said frankly. "People are nice in small quantities, but I don't like to 'hang out' with crowds."

At the far end of the bar sat a golden-skinned man in a uniform of much the same colour. Guinan noticed (Y/N) unobtrusively sneaking quick glances at him, and then looking away, shyly.

Guinan smiled, her teeth flashing white, and she went over to the golden android.

"There's someone who would like to meet you," she said quietly, nudging him with her elbow.

He looked up quickly, just in time to meet (Y/N)'s eyes. She blushed suddenly, and looked down again.

"Thank you Guinan," he said politely. "Should I go speak to her?"

His voice carried slightly, and (Y/N)'s blush deepened.

"Yes, go," Guinan said. 

He moved to the stool beside (Y/N), looking rather curious.

"Hello," (Y/N) said, trying to smile. Her heart was beating like a butterfly.


	5. Spot (Data)

"Excuse me," Data said, all but running to catch up with (Y/N). "(Y/N)?"

"Yes, Data?" she said, smiling briefly at him. "What is it?"

"I believe that at this juncture in our relationship, it would be appropriate for you to meet Spot," he said, matching your stride. 

"Oh?" she said, her eyes sparkling. "I would be honoured, dear Data. When do you want me to stop by?"

He blinked. "I believe we are both currently off-duty," he said. "I see no reason to delay."

"Spot," Data said, his voice almost laughably reasonable. "I would like you to meet (Y/N). She is my favourite human on this ship, so please be polite."

The orange cat mewed inquisitively and batted at (Y/N)'s hand. Gingerly, (Y/N) lifted her hand and ran it down the length of the cat's spine. Spot purred, and flopped down onto the floor, obviously deciding that she was going to get along. 

"She likes me!" (Y/N) said, her face lighting up. 

Spot yawned and stretched luxuriously. Her bright eyes lit up when she saw Data looking at her, and she mewed hopefully.

He obliged, and scooped her up, rubbing her orange-pelted head. 

(Y/N) laughed, and wrapped an arm around both him and the cat. "You have to share him now," she told the cat.

Spot's purrs made it clear that she thought there was clearly enough Data to go around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Silly and fluffy, but I hope you enjoyed it, @Starryoak!


	6. Gallitep (Aamin Marritza)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Might contain some triggers (this is Gallitep) but I tried not to be graphic.
> 
> **Will be frequently edited, I'm not satisfied with it yet, and AO3 won't let me post any new works, so I _can't_ post it as a standalone, :/

Aamin Marritza was a youthful idealist when he was assigned to Gallitep. He was straight out of the Military Academy; fresh-faced and mostly innocent. Almost as soon as he had stepped out the doors, he had been whisked to Bajor, to serve at the Gallitep Labour Camp. 

Aamin remembered when he had first set foot in Gallitep. Bajor was cold, colder than Cardassia, and Gallitep was full of the cold dust and rock and metal, even though the star shone warmly.

He had startled a Bajoran woman just inside the gate, as she waited in the breadlines. He accidentally knocked her meager rations from her hand and had stooped to pick it up for her, but when he had straightened, she had fled, panic in her mutely dark eyes. She left Aamin holding the carelessly wrapped packet, a somewhat foolish expression on his face.

He enjoyed a sense of great relief when he finally sat down behind his desk. He told himself it had nothing to do with his experience with the Bajoran in the breadlines, or the packet he had returned to the rations officer. He struggled to surrender himself to his task that he usually so enjoyed, but his mind continued to return to the woman whose eyes were full of blank terror.

He didn't hear the screams until the next day.

He shuffled through the pyramid of the primitive papers that they had been using, in lieu of something more organizable. Food he had retrieved teetered on his knees as he went through the files that they had given him to deal with.

The walls of the offices were not as strong as many who worked there would have likened them to be. Nor were they thick enough to block out the more piercing of the sounds outside. Aamin heard some other officers joking that a good wind would blow the buildings down when he had gone to bed the night before. When the loud shriek of pain passed through the barriers, like they were cardboard, Aamin jerked with surprise, spilling his food onto the floor beneath his desk. His first feeling was that of slight annoyance—yamok sauce wasn't free!—but then he heard the wails again. He froze, riveted by a strange sense of macabre curiosity.

 ** _"Prophets help me!"_** an unfamiliar, masculine voice cried in pain and fear. The keening rose again into a shriek before it was abruptly cut off, as if snipped by a pair of shears.

Aamin was shaking, the files laying, forgotten, on his desk. He bent, trembling, to salvage the remains of his meal, his mind struggling to cope with what he had heard, and what he was still hearing. Outside he could hear the rough laughter of his fellow Cardassians.

"What are you doing?" someone gritted out behind him. Aamin got up a little too quickly, slamming his head on the underside of the desk. He scrambled to his feet, trying to ignore the sudden pain that bloomed on the back of his skull.

"Nothing, sir," he blurted. "I just... I dropped my meal."

The taller, broader Cardassian raised a scaled eyebrow. "I see," he said dryly.

Aamin lay in his bunk, staring at the darkened ceiling. Outside, muffled cries of the helpless Bajorans could still be heard, keeping him from sleeping. The night-watch guards were having a bit of their 'fun' with the helpless Bajorans

Above him, his bunkmate shifted, mumbling something in his sleep. In the yard in front of the sleeping quarters, he could hear weeping. He remembered the gaunt young woman, old past her time, who had ran from him like a startled bird when he had tried to give her the rations pack she had dropped.

Aamin stopped his ears, trying to ignore the tears that stung his own eyes.

The next day was worse. He tried to keep his mind to his work, vigilantly preventing it from straying from the whiteness of the paper, of the neatness of the ink, the sharp contrasts between ink and paper.

Then the screams started again.

He tried so very hard to keep his mind from wandering, but it kept returning to the Bajoran woman he had seen the day before. Over and over, like a holo stuck on repeat. Again, he could feel himself shaking like a sapling in the wind. He pressed his trembling hand against the cool metal, trying to ground himself, to return his mind to the present, anything, but thinking about what was happening outside.

He took a bite of the breakfast food to soothe his seething stomach, and to let the flavors of his homeworld distract him from the horrors that they were inflicting on the Bajorans. It did not work. As the screams, the begging, the weeping continued, he felt his stomach turn, and the food threatened to come back up again. If he dared to let go an ounce of his slight self-control, he would cry like a small child without a mother.

Gul Darhe'el studied the face of the filing clerk standing before him. Aamin Marritza looked at the floor.

"You are to be commended on your filing system," the Gul said finally. "I would almost believe the amount of work you have put into it deserves a promotion."

Aamin could not meet the Gul's all-too-sharp-eyes. He could only murmur a thanks, not admitting, even to himself, that he had devised this system as a distraction from the constant cries of the Bajorans.

The Gul studied for a few moments more, then dismissed him.

Aamin hid under his desk, trying to stop the tears that flowed so freely, covering his ears in a vain attempt to block out the wails of the Bajoran prisoners. He berated himself for his weakness, his uncertainty. His heart told him that he should try to do something. Something, anything, to help the prisoners. But he was afraid.

He was a coward.

He repeated that to himself, for how was he not a coward? He was not strong enough to do anything. He was only one Cardassian, he told himself, and then he cursed at himself for such weak excuses.

Outside, the shriek of the Bajorans ended with vicious suddenness.

Darhe'el led Aamin outside. "I need someone to serve as my secretary for the day," he said. "My regular has taken ill. This wretched climate, no doubt."

Aamin could do nothing but tag miserably at the Gul's heels all day. He tried not to notice the fearful eyes of the adult labourers, or the gauntness of the children who worked alongside. To them, he knew, he was nothing but another butcher, to be feared and hated in the darkness of their hearts. He did his best to keep his head bent and his mind focused on his work, but part of him wished he had the strength to cast off his repulsive facade and go to help them in any way he could manage.

The Gul stopped before a pair of Bajorans huddled against the rock walls of the mine. He gazed coldly at them and turned to his guards.

"Have you given these two time off from the mine?" he asked. From the tone in his voice, it was clear that he knew they did not.

One of them shook his head. "No, sir. Shall I get them working again?"

"Please, sir, " the male said. The female still huddled in the corner, her shoulders hunched. "My sister had injured her hand. I was merely trying--"

"Did I give leave to speak?" one guard shouted, striding forward menacingly. They cowered away, fear etched into their faces. Aamin looked up from his padd and met the eyes of the woman.

The same woman he had run into the first day he arrived at this hell-hole. Her eyes held the same mute terror that he had seen in all the Bajorans, but also a resignation to her fate that sickened him with bitterness. This woman had seen too much, and too much had happened to her, and it had broken her soul.

Darhe'el examined them coolly for a moment longer. Then he turned again to the guards, and said, with malicious humour: "Make an example of them and then send them back to work." Eyeing his guards, he added: "Don't kill them, yet. We should get some amusement without their death."

Aamin could only watch, stricken, as the guards, with viciously precise cruelty, executed the Gul's order. He nearly vomited then and there, as he was forced to watch the brutish spectacle. Unable to look away, the image of the woman seared herself into his mind, in her pain, seeking out any refuge from the wanton cruelty of her captors. Once again, she met his eyes in a mute plea for help from him. He couldn't move, couldn't even breathe until she looked away, and again, he felt his eyes sting with tears of hopelessness and helplessness. Then Gul Darhe'el strode forward and tore the earrings out of the Bajoran's ears. They left the Bajorans, weeping, bleeding, prostrate on the dusty ground.

The image of the woman's mute plea haunted Aamin. Even as he tried to shut out the sight of the beaten, bloodied Bajorans, they returned to haunt him. Stricken and grieving at his inability to do anything, he buried his face in his single blanket so no-one would hear him weeping like a child.

Aamin reached out and touched his reflection in the mirror. "His" reflection.

Gul Darhe'el stared out of the glass back at him.

He had pieced and puzzled this plan together ever since he had left Gallitep. He had rehearsed it until some parts of him almost believed that he was Gul Darhe'el.

Now, all that was left was to do it.

He had quietly resigned his teaching job, and put his other affairs in order. His housekeeper--he smiled briefly at the thought—was handsomely provided for. He had left her nearly all his money, because if things went as he prayed they would, he was never coming back.

 _Perhaps then I will not be haunted by the ghosts of those Bajorans_ , he thought. _Perhaps then I can find some measure of peace._


	7. The Security Officers (Odo)

"I would appreciate it if you wouldn't go second-guessing me next time," Odo growled, his arms folded across his chest.

(Y/N)'s hands were planted stubbornly on her hips. "Well, it didn't turn out that badly this time," she said. 

Outside the Promenade's viewports, the wormhole opened up again, and spat out another ship. (Y/N) and Odo didn't even notice, their gazes locked irritably.

"Excuse me," Julian said politely, pushing his way past them. He stopped, and glanced back. "Are you two fighting again?" he asked, sounding rather resigned.

"None of your business," (Y/N) and Odo snapped out, at the exact same time.

"Suit yourself," Julian said, shrugging. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to get a new suit fitted, and I'm already late."

(Y/N) snorted. "Of course," she said sardonically. "Wouldn't want to keep the good tailor waiting."

Odo humphed, and turned toward the viewports. (Y/N) remained where she was, tapping her foot on the floor. 

"Can I go?" she asked. "Or do I need to dance a penance jig for you or something?"

He didn't even turn around. "Sarcasm not withstanding, I would actually appreciate... your help...with something."

If he had been a regular humanoid, (Y/N) would have guessed that he had strained something important trying to get those words out. She folded her arms across her chest, mimicking the pose he so often struck when they argued. "And why didn't you tell me this before?" she asked.

His mouth tightened, and she could tell he was trying not to snap at her. "Because I allowed myself to be drawn into an argument," he said shortly. "Now, please follow me."

"Why?" she asked, planting her feet obstinately.

"Because I am not at liberty to discuss this in public," he said, visibly struggling not to snap at her.

Her expression changed to one of interest. "Oh," she said briskly. "One of _those_." 

"Yes. One of _those_ ," he said irately. 

"Well, why didn't you tell me before?" she teased, and then held up a hand before he could respond. "Sorry. I'll stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lolz, I love writing people arguing, even if I'm...not...particularly good at it. XD You should probably expect more Odo, he's a favourite of mine.


	8. Seizures (Odo)

The people on the Promenade parted quickly to allow the loudly arguing pair of security officers through.

"You're overreacting to this, Odo!" (Y/N) protested, following him up the steep spiral of stairs that led them up to the second level of the station's Promenade. There were a few people up here, mostly Bajorans, who came to look at the wormhole's beautiful bloom of light as the ships travelled back and forth.

"Overreacting?" he retorted gruffly, folding his hands across his chest. 

"Yes!" she said, making an effort not to shout. "I'm sure that things are going to work out just..." 

She trailed off. People were staring, especially Jake and Nog who dangling their legs over the first level, as they so often did. Odo humphed, and turned to the boys. "Jake, Nog, you know the rules," he said gruffly. "No dangling on the Promenade."

They scrambled to their, feet, eyes wide. 

"I think we should move this conversation to my office," Odo said, eyeing their company.

(Y/N) did not protest. 

They were mostly silent as they returned to his office, but Odo knew something was wrong. Something seemed... _off_ about (Y/N)'s body language, and after so long as the Constable, or as he rather huffily corrected people, 'Chief of Security,' he knew to pay attention to even the most subtle of cues. He was reluctant to say anything, for he valued his own privacy, and imagined that she did the same.

"Alright," he said when the door hissed shut behind him. 

She watched him unblinkingly as he went to his chair and sat down, his hand going to the PADD perched on his console, simply out of habit. 

"Now, to continue," he said, his bright eyes gleaming. "I have--"

She didn't seem to be listening. Her eyes were unfocused and soft, her mouth slightly open. She didn't move at all, even when Odo rose to his feet.

"(Y/LN)?" he said. Despite himself, worry crossed his features. 

She didn't answer.

He shook her shoulder, and her eyes snapped wide open, impossibly wide. She began to shake, an unearthly whimpering moan emanating from her mouth. 

Odo jerked away, his face going from concerned to halfway to terrified. 

"Odo to Sickbay!" he roared into his communicator "Medical Emergency in the Security Office!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any excuses for this? No. It just popped into my head. Will there be a part two? Yes, I think so. When willl I get back to writing requests? SOON, I PROMISE, I'm sorry.


	9. Late Night (Julian Bashir)

(Y/N) stared at the dim screen of the PADD, and rubbed her tired eyes.

It was 2300 hours. She had woken up at precisely 0215 hours that morning to deal with a medical emergency. Since then, she had been on her toes, dealing with first one thing, and then another. She was exhausted.

She was sitting in a corner of the raucously, almost offensively lively bar owned by the Ferengi, Quark, sipping the extra-strong raktajino that burned her mouth like fire. The data on the PADD slid before her eyes in a meaningless mess of information that escaped comprehension.

She took another swig of the raktajino, muffling a wheeze that rose from the pain her protesting throat sent her. Tears sprang briefly to her eyes.

(Y/N) finally clicked off the screen in frustration, and dropped her head into her hands. Information, data, everything slipped through her mind like water through a seive. She rubbed her temples, trying to assuage the ache that had built up behind her eyes.

Odo sat at the bar, watching Quark with his customary, cat-like, almost-wariness, sipping his mug of what-ever-he-made-himself-into.

Julian sat across the room, but he seemed to feel (Y/N)'s eyes on him, and twisted around. There were shadows under his eyes too, and the way his shoulders slumped indicated a bone-deep weariness, much similiar to the way that (Y/N) felt.

Julian crossed the room and slid into the seat across from her. "Tired?" he asked.

"A bit," she said.

He would have laughed if he could have.

"A bit," he echoed humorously. "Just a bit?" 

"You're teasing me," she said, hiding her face behind her mug of raktajino.

His teeth flashed in a brief smile."Maybe a little," he admitted.

She grinned into her coffe, and took another mouth-scorching sip. Julian peered curiously at the half-full mug.

"What _is_ that?" he asked, making a face. (Y/N) grinned in response. 

"Coffee strong enough to lift the roof off your mouth," she said wryly.

"Ouch," he said, wincing. "Why do you drink it then?"

"Because I need to stay awake," (Y/N) siad, starting to sound more than a little bit grumpy. She passed the PADD to Julian. "My annual Starfleet report needs to be sent in by midnight, and I'm still not even half-done."

Julian studied the long trail of words, his face inscrutiable. Then he set the PADD down, and folded his hands. 

"Why don't you go on to bed," he said. "I'll see if I can finish."

(Y/N) stared. "Doctor--"

"Don't thank me," he said, grinning slightly. "I can't have a nurse who's too tired to function properly. And besides, I still owe you a favour."

She smiled slightly. "The only reason I'm letting you talk me into this is because I'm so tired," she said, hiding a yawn.

"I know," he said, smiling in return. "Now go to bed before I have to sedate you."

(Y/N) got up, and, feeling a little cheeky (the caffiene, no doubt), pressed a brief kiss to the Doctor's forehead. 

"Goodnight Julian," she said.


	10. An Unexpected Complication (Elim Garak/Reader/Julian Bashir)

(Y/N) snuggled deeper into the nest of blankets, shying away from the light that lanced through her eyes and fueled the godawful headache that throbbed between her ears. 

"Oh stars," she muttered, grimacing at the taste on her tongue. "Computer dim lights."

She froze when she someone else groaned, and turned over, pulling the covers off. 

"Computer, what time is it?"

There was no way in a cold hell she wouldn't recognize _that_ voice. Julian Bashir was currently engaging in a hungover blanket battle with her. She winced, forseeing some very awkward expla...

"Garak?!"

Both she and Julian shot up, but the sudden motion made them both wish they hadn't. Julian bolted out of the nest on the floor, his face decidedly nauseous. On the way to the refresher, he very nearly knocked into the doorway, and only narrowly missed. He left (Y/N), feeling dizzy and half-panicked. Garak was somehow still sleeping, but (Y/N) had a sinking feeling that he was probably going to murder both her and Julian with his ever-handy scissors.

Her stomach sloshed uneasily. _At least he'll probably kill me quicker than this hangover,_ (Y/N) thought, just before she was forced to scramble for the refresher.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Very, very short, and I suspect not very accurate, lolz. I can't remember if Julian can get drunk cuz of his enhancements, but hey! I had fun writing it ^^


	11. An Uncomfortable Morning (Elim Garak/Reader/Julian Bashir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Follow-up to my other piece, :D Hope you enjoy!

(Y/N) wanted nothing more than to roll over and fall asleep again, rather like Julian, who had crashed on her couch. Garak was still curled in a pile of scales and blankets on the floor. Instead she took a sip of the lime juice she had replicated, grimacing at the taste of the salt and sugar fighting over the sour liquid. Her head banged like a drum, and she had to fight her stomach rejecting the home hangover cure.

"Computer, dim lights again," she said, gingerly resting her head on the back of her cushioned chair. The answering chirp was loud enough to make her groan, and almost wish she hadn't said anything.

The blankets rustled as Garak began to stir. (Y/N) was too tired to even look as he carefully uncovered his eyes and blinked. "If this is a practical joke, it isn't very funny," he said, his voice only slightly fuzzy.

"If only," (Y/N) replied, flinching at the sound of her voice in her own ears. "Are you alright?" 

"Mostly," he said candidly. "I'm not about to kill anyone, if that's what you're wondering."

She winced. "She _had_ been wondering about that.

"I doubt that I am going to be able to get back to my own quarters," he told her. "I hope you don't mind me 'crashing' at yours."

"Not at all," she muttered, wishing he would stop talking. It meant she had to talk back, and she was not up for that. She really just wanted to sleep. But, she supposed, there were worse people to share a hangover with than Elim Garak and Julian Bashir. 

There was blessed silence for a moment, but then Garak spoke again. 

"It's cold," he said. In anyone else, it would have sounded like he was complaining.

(Y/N) huffed a sigh. "Computer, raise temperature by twenty degrees Fahrenheit," she said, sliding out of her chair and flopping on the floor. The answering chirp made her cover her ears.

Garak rolled over to look at her, his eye almost comically long-suffering. "I suppose you want a blanket," he sighed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I wrote Garak OK, xd


	12. Moogie (Grilka/Reader/Quark)

"I do enjoy these little get-togethers," Grilka admitted, lounging on the couch, a glass of bloodwine in one hand and her other arm around (Y/N)'s waist. (Y/N) smiled, almost smirked at Quark, who had just entered the room.

"I do believe that your females have left you for each other," she joked, sipping her own drink.

Quark smiled, gesturing negligently. "You'll come back to me eventually," he said, setting down the tray on the low table before them.

Grilka laughed. "As arrogant as ever, Quark," she said, a fair bit of arrogance gracing her own words.

He shrugged, unbothered by her half-meant criticism. "I thought that maybe after dinner, we could go down to the holosuite," he said carelessly.

Grilka laughed raucously, a testament to the amount of bloodwine she had already consumed. (Y/N) lifted her glass in a mocking toast. "Let it never be said that Quark, son of Kheldar, didn't have lobes. It takes them to ask a Klingon that question."

Quark smiled. "It was worth a try."

Grilka stood up, the artificial light falling on the long waves of her hair. "(Y/N)," she said, her hand going to (Y/N)'s own hair. "Has anyone ever told you that you are beautiful?"

"Now you're just trying to make me jealous," Quark said loudly.

"Is it working?" (Y/N) asked, rather irreverently.

"Not really," he replied with feigned nonchalance.

The door chirped, clear and infinitely annoying. Quark cast an irritated glance toward the ceiling, and went to answer the door.

"Yes, yes, I'm not--Moogie?"

"Quark!" Grilka growled, her hand dropping instinctively to her knife handle. "Who's there?"

Quark moved away from the doorframe, allowing them to see the old Ferengi. 

She inclined her head to them graciously, her latinum earrings tinkling as she did so. "You must be (Y/N) and Grilka," she said. "I've heard a great deal about you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kinda short, but I'll try to post a follow-up because YAY ISHKA!! :D Sorry it took for-freaking-ever to post, @ReaderFreak5000, :( I've just been busy over the holiday. I'm trying to get my act together again, and keep writing though.


	13. Note

Prompts pleeeeeeaaasseee?? I have no ideas! 😬


	14. Announcement

I'm moving my Odo chapters over to a new standalone called Melt A Liquid Heart, because I'm spamming this book with him enough already, XD


	16. Eating Habits (Julian Bashir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A request for user @Genie! Hope you enjoyed, and this is more or less what you had in mind.

"Mind if I join you?" Bashir asked, balancing his tray of replicated food on one hand, and a PADD in the other. 

(Y/N) looked up briefly, and nodded.

"Thank you," Julian said, with feeling. He slid into the seat opposing her, and gratefully slurped his raktajino.

(Y/N) looked back down at the meal she had reluctantly taken from the replicator, chewing on her lip to keep from shivering. 

Julian looked up at her, a mischievous twinkle dancing in his eye. "Cold?" he teased. 

(Y/N) shrugged. "No," she lied, not meeting his eyes. 

Julian narrowed his eyes at her. "Yes you are," he said, his brow furrowing. "Are you feeling well?" 

"Mhm," (Y/N) insisted, mumbling her acquiescence through her own raktajino.

Julian set his PADD aside, his dark eyes serious. "(Y/N)," he said. "What's wrong?"

(Y/N) cursed her bad lying. Now he was suspicious. "I'm fine," she replied. 

Julian moved his chair closer. "No you aren't," he said. "Please. I don't want to pry, but... I am a doctor. If I have to, I'll take you to Sick Bay for an examination."

"Pulling rank on me?" (Y/N) said, pulling a wry face. "I just need to get on top of my eating habits. That's all."

Julian scrutinized her carefully. "Are you sure?" he asked. "I'am always here for you."

He slipped his hand around hers. "Just remember that," he said, his liquid eyes soft. 

"I will," (Y/N) whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you have any revisions you want me to make @Genie, please tell me! I promise not to take offence, XD 
> 
> I hope I did OK, I've never written readers (or characters with eating disorders, and have not experience with them at all). Please, please, please let me know what changes I should make!


	17. Drabble Game Prompts!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hey! So I've decided to challenge myself, and do a drabble prompt challenge! :D Send me the number (or numbers) and character you want me to write (but please specify if you want an AU or not). For those who've made requests of me, I haven't forgotten, and I'll be working on those too. :) Have fun and don't be shy, please.

1\. "I love you. Please don't go."

2\. "Yell at me, scream, tell me it's never going to happen. Just talk to me, please."

3\. "You're scaring me."

4\. "Are you...jealous?"

5\. "I think I'm in love with you and that scares the crap out of me."

6\. "Dance with me."

7\. "I'm freezing."

8\. "Now the translator is on the blink now? What else can go wrong?"

9\. "I-I think I'm pregnant."

10\. "You're lucky you're cute."

11\. "Why me?"

12\. "You need a break."

13\. "You got this for me?"

14\. "I can't lose you too."

15\. "Why are you invisible?"

16\. "Please, just breathe."

17\. "I think I'm in labor."

18."You woke me up at midnight to cuddle?"

19\. "I can't sleep. Can I stay with you?"

20\. "It's that dream again."

21\. "Stay. Please."

22\. "Are you drunk?"

23\. "I'm fine." "No, you aren't."

24\. "You shouldn't have gone alone."

25\. "You did that for me?"

26\. "Is that blood?"

27\. "I'll kick his ass for you if you want."

28\. "You can borrow mine."

29\. "I have night terrors. Being around you helps for some reason."

30\. "I thought you were dead."

31\. "You're my secret admirer?"

32\. "You're going to die and it's all my fault."

33\. "This could be the last hour we have together. Let's make the most of it."

Alternate Universes I am Taking Requests For:

Western!AU

Steampunk!AU

Medieval!Fantasy!AU

Atompunk!AU (aka Fallout)

WWI&WWII!AU

Ancient Civilizations!AU

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please, at least some of you request, 'cause I'm gonna feel like a fool if nobody asks for anything.


	18. "You're My Secret Admirer?" (Elim Garak)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the drabble game! :) Requested by @Quinn_Lockwood

The lights in (Y/N) quarters were dimmed down; the lighting for your 0400 wake-up time. You plodded around in your Starfleet uniform, sipping from the raktajino that the replicator supplied you with ever morning. Your hair was done in a way that you felt, or hoped, was best suited to flatter you.

The job that you got up at all ungodly hours of the morning to do? Waste extraction.

At least there was one thing that usually tended to brighten your morning. As a matter of fact, you tended to get up earlier because of it. 

Every morning, when you would leave you quarters, you would find a PADD, and usually a small flower tucked into the corner beside your door. On that PADD was usually a note, or sometimes an excerpt of a song. How your secret admirer was finding these fresh flowers was a bit of mystery to you; there weren't any florists on the station, to your knowledge.

You bit your lip, and glanced at the chronometer mounted above the replicator. 0430. In thirty minutes, your shift would be starting.

The last letter had been carefully inked in neat hand. It had told her that her secret admirer was hoping for a chance to meet face-to-face, and walk you to your shift the next morning; so long as you were willing.

You squirmed, feeling as nervous as a cadet. Thirty minutes. Unless he or she was early.

As the minutes ticked by, your mind slipped into the pattern of trying to guess the identity of the one leaving you love letters. 

Quark? No, it couldn't be. He'd be much more direct.

Morn? No. Last you heard he was involved with an ensign from Engineering.

Julian Bashir? Maybe, although she suspected it wasn't. The handwriting had been too neat.

There was one possibility that you absolutely refused to consider. There was no way that the Cardassian tailor was interested in you. Right?

The door chirped. You stomach did a nervous backflip, but you reached the door in record time. 

Standing at the door was none other than the blue-eyed tailor.

"Good morning, (Y/N)," Elim Garak said, his smile bright and cheerful. "May I walk you to Waste Extraction?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I tried second person for a change, :) Tell me what you think, and if I made any mistakes, if you would be so kind. ^^;


	19. "You're Scaring Me." (Julian Bashir)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the drabble game! :) Requested by @EveningInHornersCorners
> 
> Enjoy!

The door chirped cutting through the humming throb of the omnipresent sound of that engulfed everything on the station. (Y/N) glanced up listlessly, and turned back to the PADD she was reading.

The door chimed again, more insistently this time.

"Come in," she called reluctantly. 

Julian, all long limbs and puppy-worried eyes came bounding into the room. "(Y/N)," he said. "You weren't answering my comms."

"I just wanted to be alone," (Y/N) lied, staring at the PADD hard enough to drill holes in the tough plastic casing.

Julain leaned over the simple couch, his sweet-chocolate eyes never wavering. "(Y/N)," he said softly. "I don't want to intrude on your privacy, but I want you to remember that I was Dominion prisoner of war too. I know what you went through."

His eyes were all too earnest. (Y/N) looked away again. 

"(Y/N), you're scaring me," Julian said quietly. "I just want to help you."

If he kept talking to her much longer, she was going to cry. She dropped her PADD, and turned away from the young doctor. Julian looked stricken. 

"I-I'm sorry," he stammered, turning towards the door. "I mean... I came in here to make you feel better, not _worse_." He spun around again, his eyes bright and mirroring his deep disappointment in himself. "I think-- I think I'll just leave."

"You idiot," (Y/NO said, crossing the room before he could reach the doorpad. She wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in the back of his shoulder. 

"You idiot," she muttered again. "Come on. If you want to talk, we'll talk."


	20. "I Have Night Terrors." (EMH/The Doctor)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the drabble game! Requested by @Barbara. I hope you enjoy, :D

The longs halls of _Voyager_ were dimmed down to the early morning lighting. (Y/N) saw nobody, and heard nothing but the soft hum of the warp engines. 

Her legs shook slightly, but she managed to hobble down to the Sickbay, her heart still racing.

The doors to Sickbay hissed open; a burst of abrupt noise that startled both her and the EMH, who was sitting behind his desk, studying a PADD. She briefly wondered what was on it.

"(Y/N)," he said, his mouth twisting into that familiar expression of wry surprise. "What are you doing here at 0300 hours? Your shift doesn't start until 0800."

(Y/N) opened her mouth and then closed it again. "I--I, uh..." she berated herself mentally for how stupid it sounded. "I have sleep paralysis," she blurted. "Night terrors."

The EMH set down his PADD and steepled his hands. "I see," he said. "Why are you coming to me? I'm... not much of a psychiatrist."

(Y/N) sat down hard on one of the bio-beds and put her face in her hands. "I don't _need_ a psychiatrist," she said fiercely. "i'm--I just--Being around you helps, that's all."

The Doctor glanced back at the PADD, then up to (Y/N). "I see," he said slowly, although he didn't. He rose from his chair, his dark eyes sharply concerned. "If...you wish to stay here until your shift begins, I don't mind," he said. "There's work for you to do, or I suppose you could--"

"I'll help you with some work," (Y/N) said quickly. "What needs to be done?"


	21. "I Thought You Were Dead." (Julian Bashir)

The blast was deafening. Julian wanted to leap out of his seat in the jeep and let out a wild screech of triumph. (Y/N) grinned tightly, a fiercely joyful whoop exploding from her lips as she sharply veered the jeep to avoid a landmine.

Julian turned again, bracing his machine gun against his shoulder. With a burst of vicious satisfaction, he--

The jeep beneath them burst into a raging fireball and flipped over, catapulting Julian toes over tip into the sand.

Julian stared at the sky, completely winded. His side felt like it was on fire. 

_What are you doing, you idiot?!_ he berated himself, trying to scramble to his feet. He had not been genetically engineered for nothing! 

_(Y/N)._

His heart froze up, and he almost tripped into the sand again. He scrambled toward the wreckage of the jeep, his mind racing at warp speed. Te safeties were on, right? They were always on, right? If Worf had left them off because of his thrice-be-dammed Klingon battlethirstiness, Julian swore that he was going to kill him.

(Y/N) was sprawled on the sand some distance from the wreck, having been thrown clear from the wrecked jeep. Julian nearly fell over himself as he knelt beside her, and fumbled her wrist to feel her pulse. 

She coughed, and opened her eyes, bright in her soot-streaked face. Julian almost laughed aloud with relief. 

"Come on, soldier," he said instead, offering her his hand up. "There's Nazis to fight."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Pardon any historical inaccuracies and bad writing. :/ Quality has taken a downturn.


	22. "I Think I'm In Labor" (Pavel Chekov)

"Vell, zhis is just great," Chekov grumbled. He stared at the crashlanded shuttlecraft, his thumbs hooked into his belt.

(Y/N) grinned at him from her place on the fallen log. "It could be worse," she said, in a possible attempt to be cheering. 

Chekov did not feel particularly cheered. 

"You alvays say zhat," Chekov told her. He slipped an arm around her roundly pregnant waist. "You're tempting fate."

Her breath hissed in through her teeth, and, as paranoid as he was currently feeling, he whipped to his feet.

"Vhat?" he asked quickly. 

"Nothing," she said, a little too quickly. "Just a cramp."

"Nothing is 'just a cramp' anymore," Chekov grumbled. 

They set up a camp inside the twisted metal of the shuttlecraft. Chekov sat up in front, trying to make sense of the twisted mangles of connectors and circuits. (Y/N) tried to sleep beneath a thin blanket on the sloping floor of the shuttle. 

Chekov squinted at the soft-glowing GNDN wires, and raised his hyperspanner. He wished that he could have more light, but shrugged it off as philosophically as he could. 

(Y/N) whimpered softly. He turned to see if she was asleep or awake, and found her sitting up, her hand pressed to her abdomen. 

"Is something wrong?" he demanded, bolting upright. This wasn't doing his nerves any good.

Even in the darkness he could see the weak smile that (Y/N) flashed at him. "I think I'm in labor," she told him. "My water just broke."


	23. "You Can Borrow Mine" (Gary Mitchell)

The blaring sound of Gary Mitchell's alarm jerked them both from the comfort of sleep. Gary jumped out of bed, eyes still half-bleared with sleep. (Y/N) rolled off the side, taking the blankets with her.

Mitchell fairly jumped into his uniform, but tripped on the pants and went thudding to the floor. (Y/N) muffled a laugh as she picked up her own uniform. 

Gary managed to pick himself off the floor just in time for another pair of wadded-up pants to hit him squarely in the face.

"You ripped my pants last night," (Y/N) said, standing over him with her hands on her hips. 

Gary knew that a smile was not exactly appropriate in these circumstances, but he simply could not help it. A wide, sheepish grin stretched across his face, and he knew she was laughing too.

"You could borrow mine, I suppose," he volunteered slyly.


	24. "Is That Blood?" (Chakotay)

Voyager rocked again, throwing (Y/N) hard against the wall. Chakotay caught her by the arm and hauled her back to her feet.

"I'm fine," she brushed off. "What's--"

Another blast hit the ship, and sent her crashing straight into his arms. He caught her, more out of reflex than anything else, and this time they both crashed straight into the wall. 

"This is really not funny," (Y/N) muttered, painfully crawling to her feet. She felt her aching forehead and realized it was warm and sticky with blood.

Chakotay grabbed her hand again, and yanked her out of the way of the support beam that tumbled to the spot where she had been moments before. Breathless and shaky from the adrenaline, she stumbled to feet and away from the twisted metal that had come very close to killing her. 

"Are you hurt?" he asked, squinting through the dimmed lights. 

"I'm fine," (Y/N) muttered.

Chakotay brushed an arm over her forehead and pulled away. "Is that blood?" he asked. "What happened?"

(Y/N) shrugged. "I just hit my head. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" he pressed. 

She nodded. "Come on," she said bracingly. "I'll be fine."


	25. "Are You Jealous?" (Quark, Male!Reader)

Quark leaned over the bar, his bright eyes intently focused on (Y/N) and the Bajoran that he was speaking with in the corner.

He chewed on his tongue as studied the Bajoran, feeling his lip curl up in disgust. What could (Y/N) see in such a weak-willed and simpering person, he wondered. His hand closed around the neck of a bottle, and he slopped a measure into the glass Morn held out to him without looking. Morn glanced from him to the human in the corner. 

An idea flared up in his deviously clever mind, and he began to move with an energy and zeal he usually reserved for unconvinced customers. He snatched up a bottle and made his way over to the table. 

"(Y/N)," he said, complete with the air of joviality so necessary to his image. "Who is this?"

"Vreenan Skal," (Y/N) answered, with a friendly gesture of the hand that Quark rather wished he hadn't seen. For a moment, his grin became a little fixed, but then he picked right up where he left off. 

"(Y/N)," he said, and then his ideas fled his mind. Berating himself mentally, he improvised, something he wasn't usually good at. 

"Vreenan," he said quickly, seizing his arm in a friendly display he was only too good at. "Why don't you both come over to the bar?"

The Bajoran looked at the Ferengi with a peculiar expression. "I can't," he said, with almost genuine regret. "I'm on duty in ten minutes."

 _All the better_ Quark thought, but he didn't say it aloud.

As the Bajoran rose and left the bar, (Y/N) accompanied the Ferengi back to the bar. Grinning, and in a barely audible murmur that only a Ferengi could hear, he whispered: "Are you jealous?"

Quark recoiled visibly. "No, no," he protested, injecting a chuckle into his words. "Of course not."

(Y/N) widening grin told the Ferengi _exactly_ how believed he was.


	27. Bad Dancing (Julian Bashir/Reader/Elim Garak)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Do I have any excuse at all for this horrible abomination? Yes. I blame it on the video. Want a link? You sure? https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=C6qhdydRnCo
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=16y1AkoZkmQ
> 
> Don't say I didn't warn you. Be prepared to break something laughing.

Julian Bashir, M.D., gentically engineered human being, doctor extraordinaire, paramour of (Y/N) (Y/LN) and Elim Garak, was absolutely smashed. 

The reason? A celebration that got a little out of hand. Not that it mattered anyway. When Julian Bashir got a little too full of his liquor, he got bad ideas. Spectacularly bad ideas that tended to end up on the HoloNet, filmed eighty times over.

(Y/N) slipped into Quark's bar, squeezing between a pinstriped Iotian and Ensign Vlix'Pran. Garak pushed through just behind, apologizing urbanely all the while. 

"Oh my lord," (Y/N) muttered, half laughing. She stared at the silver-clad doctor, his usual puppyish bonhomie given way to a grandly magnificent geniality. He bought Morn three drinks, flirted outrageously with the dabo girls, and sang in a boisterously tuneless voice.

"Should we stop him?" Garak inquired, half-seriously. 

(Y/N) actually thought about it for a moment. Then she shook her head. "No," she said slowly, a smirk forming on her lips. "I want to see this play out."

Garak looked at her quite closely. "You are heartless, my dear," he said cheerfully.

She offered him a sweet smile. "I learned from the best."

Julian swaggered over, his silvery springball uniform almost indecently tight. He offered them a broad, if unsteady smile. "My dearests!" he beamed. (Y/N) and Garak traded a glance. 

"Hello," (Y/N) said, a little unsurely. "What are you doing?"

"Celebrating!" Julian said jovially. He lifted a clear glass of bright lavender liquid to his lips and drained it theatrically.

Quark appeared at his elbow and snatched away the glass, just as Julian raised it aboe his head as if to smash it on the ground. He cast a frustrated glance toward the two in the doorway, his lips cinched together in a firm line. "I could use some help here," he said acidly.

(Y/N) almost appeared to think about it. Then she shook her head, a teasing smile playing around her lips. "I couldn't," she said. "Look at how many people are coming in!"

"Think of how much business you'd lose," Garak added, his voice dripping with false sincerity. 

Quark rolled his eyes toward the ceiling, and slid off the bar. He cast his dishcloth into the air with an unnecessarily theatric gesture. 

Julian looked around the room. "How about a song?" he called out to the assembly. 

(Y/N) waved Quark down again. "What has he been drinking?"" she demanded. 

The Ferengi shrugged. "Mostly Silvan wine and nwhe."

Silvan wine and nwhe. Quite the combination. Silvan wine left motion and speech centers alone for the most part, and went straight for a person's inhibitions and mood. Nwhe contained an extremely potent neuropresser that left most amplified human emotions, hence the slang name, 'more-of-the-same.'

(Y/N) groaned inwardly. Julian was going to be a pain in the ass, to put it bluntly, until his intoxicants wore off. 

"We could always take him home," Garak said.

"I'm beginning to think-- Oh god, what is he doing?"

Garak studied the good doctor carefully. "I believe he is dancing."

(Y/N) shook her head violently. "THAT," she said, "is not dancing."

Julian cavorted like a wild thing, leaping into the air, and bouncing back and forth on the balls of his feet. He looked so happy that *Y/N( was tempted to leave him. But, now, she realized. She loved him too much for that.

"Come on," she said to Garak in a somewhat resigned tone. "Let's take him home."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be getting back to requests soon. :D


	28. Love Me Always (Beverly Crusher, WW2!AU)

The one thing (Y/N) could never get used to was the bombs. The whistling of death and then the ear-shattering explosion that would shake the shoddy field hospital to the foundations. The wounded soldiers never spoke, but the almost palpable fear around the beds spoke clearly enough for them. 

There was that accursed roar of the planes again. (Y/N) bit her lip so hard she thought it would bleed. She counted the seconds until the shrill whine pierced the air, and the blast that signalled more causalities, ripped apart by the vicious missiles of destruction.

It never came. 

The seconds ticked by like hours, and finally (Y/N) dared to look up from the neat rolls of gauze bandages on the boiled metal tray. Beverly Crusher, the other nurse/doctor on duty met her eyes from across the room and mouthed: "Unexploded."

(Y/N) nodded.

They were allowed off duty that night, but (Y/N) couldn't sleep at all. Her mind continued to turn to the thoughts of all the unwary people whose bodies would be shredded to pieces when the UXB finally went off. Or the soldiers and civilians in her ward, so many damaged past repair. The French resistance leader, Jean-Luc, whose people lay in the bed, hiding from the merciless German authorities. To her wonderful woman, and the life they could never have together.

She couldn't help but cry. 

Beverly heard her weeping, and came to comfort her, wrapping her strong arms around (Y/N)'s shaking body. Neither spoke for a long time.

In time, (Y/N)'s tears softened and stilled. Beverly ran a comforting hand down (Y/N)s hair, let down for the night. 

"I'm afraid," (Y/N) whispered. 

"We all are," Beverly whispered, pressing a kiss to her lover's cheek. "That's part of war."

"Not that," (Y/N) said. "Although I am afraid of the bombs too."

Beverly laughed. "Aren't we all?"

"I'm scared for us," (Y/N) said quietly. "If by some miracle, we do make it out of this alive, we'll never be able to live a normal life. "

Beverly said nothing, but her eyes were sad. "I know," she said softly. "All we can do is enjoy the time we have."

(Y/N) kissed her, long and slow and sad and sweet. "I know," she said sadly. "I just hope you know that I'll always love you."

"As will I," Beverly said, and kissed (Y/N) again.


	29. Drabble Game Pt. 2!

EXPLANATION AHEAD!! It's not very long, so please read it.

So I was watching Enterprise the other day, specifically that episode 'Precious Cargo,' specifically the bits with them in the escape pod.

The fanfic author in me immediately seized onto the idea; and so here I am, making Phase 2 of the Drabble game. 

Here's how it works. You request a character and (if you want) a specific reader (e.g. male, nonbinary, black, asian, white, etc), and I write a fluffy, possibly romantic drabble about being stuck in a tiny box floating through space. 

Please fill my inbox, 'cause I think this is a cool idea, and I wanna write some drabbles! <3


	30. Escape Pods (Reginald Barclay)

_This is absolutely great,_ (Y/N) thought unhappily. _Stuck in a tin can floating through space with only Lieutenant Broccoli for company._

 _Barclay!_ she reminded herself sharply. _Stop calling him by that stupid nickname!_

Reginald Barclay was sitting on the far side of the tiny pod, trying to make himself as small as he could. He had his knees propped under his chin, and stared at the flickering controls of the alien escape pod. (Y/N) fought both frustration and sympathy aimed at the small, huddled figure.

They were quiet for a while; an uneasy silence that felt unfriendly and cold.

"Lieutenant!" (Y/N) finally snapped, breaking the prickly silence. Reginald jumped.

"What?" he asked, suddenly on the defensive. The uneasy atmosphere stretched further, threatening to break, with decidedly unpleasant consequences. "W-what did I do?"

"I should be asking that!" (Y/N) said, perhaps more sharply than she should have. "You've been acting offended at me for hours!"

"N-no, I haven't!" Barclay protested. "I've just b-been thinking."

"About how this whole situation is my fault, doubtless."

 _You know, it really is your fault..._ she reminded herself. With a sigh, she calmed herself down, knowing that she was just snapping because she was stressed. 

"I'm sorry," she said, wincing at the edge to her voice. "I shouldn't have snapped at you."

Barclay's mouth twitched in a feeble smile. 

(Y/N) turned back to the sensor data that was still maddeningly free of anything remotely Enterprise-shaped. "We might be stuck here for a while," she said diplomatically. "We aren't gonna get very far if I snap because you don't want to talk."

He nodded in fervent agreement, amusement beginning to tug at the corners of his mouth and eyes. 

"So... would you mind talking?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like that was complete shit (pardon my French). :c


	31. Stuck In A Space Pod (Pavel Chekov)

The tiny pod was possibly the most claustrophobic situation (Y/N) had ever been in; made far, far worse by the fact that Pavel Chekov was scrunched in next to her.

"From bad to worse," the Russian grumbled, squirming around to peer at the flickering controls, his accent lilting in a way that would have been delightful in any other situation. "(Y/N), you're in the way."

"I'm not sure I can't be," she managed, squeezing around behind him. "This wasn't exactly made for two people."

"I think I'd strangle whoever designed these pods," he muttered under his breath, squeezing up against the wall. "Do they have to be so small?"

"The only thing that would make it worse would be if the lights decided to go out," (Y/N) added, squinting at the flourescent light bulb that flickered ominously. It promptly obeyed, leaving them in near total darkness, alleviated only by the faint lights on the console.

"Talk of the devil," Chekov said, a half-smile warming his tone. "You had to say something."

_Damn it._

"I'm sorry," she stammered. "I didn't--"

"It's fine," he said. "It would have happened anyway."

(Y/N) slumped against the barely cushioned back of the pod. _This is just great,_ she thought. _Look at me, stuck in a pod with the one man I've been crushing on for months._

The silence was uncomfortably tight in that tiny pod. (Y/N) was keenly aware of everywhere her body rubbed up against his, and was thankful for the darkness that hid her blush. The silence ticked by until she finally snapped. 

"I'm sorry," she blurted.

He shifted slightly, turning toward her, she assumed."What for?"

She flushed. "I just needed something to break the silence before things got too uncomfortable," she lied. Well, it wasn't really a lie, she supposed.

He shifted back again, his shoulder rubbing against hers. "I suppose it's not so bad," he said. "The emergency beacon's working and life support's online."

"Don't say anything," (Y/N) said, only mostly joking. "You'll jinx it."

He laughed.

There was silence again, this time far more comfortable, at least for (Y/N). Finally, it was broken by Chekov melodious accent.

"Can I put my arm around you?" he asked.

(Y/N) was glad no-one could see her grinning like an idiot. She snuggled closer in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For Alex! I'm sorry it turned out both late and bad. xd `I promise I'll get on my game SOON.


End file.
